


Eyes of Blood

by Enraged_Erin



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enraged_Erin/pseuds/Enraged_Erin
Summary: Upon waking up in an unfamiliar land with no recollection of who she is, Zerrus must survive the harsh terrain of Skyrim's expanse while learning who she was. Tempers will mount, morals will be destroyed, and the truth will be told as she progresses through the land while trying to live.





	1. Rude Awakening

               _‘Where am I? Why am I so cold?’_

Cracking open her eyes slowly, she blinked harshly as the sun beat down on her and blinded her for a moment. Moving to rub at her eyes, she discovered that her hands were bound together. Snapping her eyes open and looking around hastily, she noted that she was situated on a cart being driven by what looked like a soldier. She looked around the cart and at the passengers near her. The man seated across from her was blonde, human, and bound just the same as her. Almost as if he had sensed that someone was looking at him, he turned and looked at her.

               “Hey, you. You’re finally awake.” he spoke to her, her face neutral and attentive. “You were trying to cross the border, right?” Before she could answer, he continued. “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.” He gestured his head to the man seated beside him. Looking at the man in rags, she cocked a brow.

               “Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.” The man groused, turning his attention from the ‘Stormcloak’ and to her. “You there. You and me -- we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

               “We-“ she started when the first man spoke again.

               “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

               “Wha-“

               “Shut up back there!” the man driving the cart barked at them, the bound woman glaring darkly at the back of his head and instead bringing her attention to the floorboards of the cart. She figured she may as well remain silent considering that her past two attempts to speak had been interrupted. Apparently, the men in the cart didn’t feel the same as her and continued to speak.

               “What’s wrong with him?” spoke the horse thief, catching her curiosity and following where his gaze was. She hadn’t even noticed the man sitting next to her with a gag wrapped around his mouth and his blue-grey eyes boring into her eyes. Flinching back slightly, she went back to staring at the wooden planks under her feet.

               “Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” The Stormcloak soldier shouted.

               _‘Who? Where the hell am I?!’_

               “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?” The panic in his voice as clear as the sky above them.

               “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

               “No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.”

               She felt sympathy for this man. The panic in his voice shifted into one of dread. While she wasn’t aware of what Sovngarde was, she could tell it meant that death was just outside her doorstep and knocking. Heaving a silent sigh, she shook her head and rubbed at her face with her still-bound hands.

               “Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

               “Why do you care?” he barked back almost immediately.

               “A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

               The thief was silent for a moment, almost as if he was taking the man’s words to heart. “Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”

               “And you?”

               She raised her head, an eyebrow cocked up. “You’re asking me?” A nod. “Hate to disappoint, but I don’t even know where the hell I am right now let alone where I came from.”

               “You’re… serious?”

               “Do I look like I’m kidding? I just woke up, bound and about to die. As far as I know, I’m about to be executed for waking up.” She sassed, turning to look away from the man and focusing her attention on where they were headed. She wasn’t always a morning person but was more on the lazy side of waking up. This way of being woken was not a pleasant way to start her day.

               “General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” called a soldier from the wagon in front of them.

               “Good. Let’s get this over with.” Responded an older man and in armor that looked more decorated than the soldiers she had seen around her. Beside him was a woman in robes and seemingly awaiting the results. A voice whimpered from her right.

               “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.”

               The soldier in front of her scowled darkly as he looked over his shoulder and to the General and woman. “Look at him, General Tullis the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.” At his last sentence, he eyed her with a mixed look of hatred and distrust. Leaning back until her back touched the wood, she took a deep breath and shut her eyes for a moment. “This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.” The soldier reminisced. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

               “Talk about one hell of a bad morning…” she muttered under her breath, wanting so badly to rub at her temples to alleviate the headache that was creeping up on her.

               “Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!” yelled another soldier, presumably the Captain based on the orders she was barking at the soldiers around them.

               “Why are we stopping?”

               “Why do you think? End of the line.” The cart pulled to a stop, jarring her slightly and forcing her to realize that this was probably her last few minutes. Looking up at the soldier with a stern yet neutral look, he continued. “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

               Nodding and moving to stand up, she staggered slightly without the use of her arms to assist her to her feet, the man across from her somewhat helping her to her feet by using his body as a support. Shortly after she stood straight, he immediately moved to hop off the cart and stand next to the others who were with them on the ride here.

               “No! Wait! We’re not rebels!” Shaking her head with a slight grimace, she frowned as the sympathy for this man swarmed her thoughts. Truthfully, she was just as scared as him. She just wouldn’t allow them to see her fear.

               “Face your death with some courage, thief. The woman has more bravery than you right now.”

               “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

               “No doubt about that… but what’s the point fighting it?” she mumbled more to herself than to anyone in particular.

               “Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time.” The Captain ordered the captive soldiers and the two unassociated.

               “Empire loves their damn lists.”

               “Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.” Called the man standing next to the Captain, a parchment in his hand. The gagged man stepped forward and towards the block where other soldiers were lining up.

               “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!”

               “Ralof of Riverwood.” The man she now knew was named Ralof stepped away from them. “Lokir of Rorikstead.”

               “No, I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” Lokir shouted as he bolted from his position and back where the cart had entered. She stunned, watching as the man was not running from his death, but rather towards it.

               “Halt!” The Captain shouted after him.

               “You’re not going to kill me!”

               “Archers!” She watched with a lack of surprise as the thief was shot with a single arrow into the back of his head, his body falling to the dirt in a heap. “Anyone else feel like running?” she regarded to her, her being the last prisoner left.

               “Wait. You there. Step forward.” Acknowledged the soldier with the list. Taking a few steps forward, she looked up at him. Since she was now regarding him and he was speaking to her, she began noting his appearance. He had messy brown hair and a calming yet strong look to his face suggesting to her that he is normally soft-spoken and would wish to avoid any form of combat if needed. “Who are you?”

               She stilled. The only thing she knew about herself was her name. The rest was a blur.

               “Zerrus.” She answered, shifting in her place.

               “You don’t seem like a full-blooded dark elf. Is there perhaps some form of man in you?”

               “I – what?” She has never heard of a dark elf before, let alone what his implication meant at all. As far as she knew, she was human through and through. The confusion must’ve been written clear on her face as the man now regarded the Captain.

               “Captain. What should we do? She’s not on the list.”

               “Forget the list. She goes to the block.”

               “So much for fair trials. Holy shit.” She remarked, glaring at the dirt under her feet and biting her lip.

               “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoner.”

               _‘I swear to god, if I come back as a ghost, I’m going to haunt your ass ‘til the day you die and even after!_ ’

               Following after the heavily armored Captain, she stopped when she reached the line of soldiers, standing next to Ralof and scowling at the Captain for her brash decision. She immediately brought her attention to Ulfric and noticed that the General was standing in front of him. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” At that, Ulfric grunted at the General, a glare directed at the man. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”

               A loud roar pierced through the air like a knife, Zerrus whipping her head up and looking around for the source of the horrible sound. She could feel it. That roar was bad news. Her entire body was tingling and trembling under her skin, looking over at Ralof and then the soldier who held the list, she silently spoke to them – asking the same question she knew they had to be thinking.

               “What was that?” the soldier asked.

               “It’s nothing. Carry on.” General Tullius dismissed. She wanted to yell, wanted to shout at him and say that it was not nothing. Her jaw dropping in the sheer disbelief of what she heard, she looked back up towards the sky.

               “Yes, General Tullius.” The Captain turned to look at another robed woman standing near the chopping block, an air of grace and spirituality radiating from her. “Give them their last rites.”

               _‘Ah. A priest. At least that’s one thing to compensate for this injustice.’_

               “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are—” Began the priestess.

               “For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with.” Growled a soldier as he stepped up to the block and cutting off the sermon.

               “As you wish.” The priestess walked away from their sight, seemingly upset that she was interrupted so harshly by this random soldier.

               “Come on, I haven’t got all morning.” The Captain stepped up behind the soldier and pushed him down to his knees with a single hand, then pressed her boot to his back until his head rest on the block. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” At those last words, the headsman beheaded the soldier, the Captain shoving his lifeless body to the side.

               “You Imperial bastards!” screamed a female Stormcloak soldier to her left.

               “Justice!” yelled another voice, coming from somewhere behind her.

               “Death to the Stormcloaks!”

               “As fearless in death as he was in life.” Ralof spoke, his head hung low.

               “No kidding.” Zerrus responded, shaking her head slowly in both a sign of respect and disbelief that the man walked right into his death with no fear.

               “Next, the hybrid!” The Captain ordered, pointing directly at Zerrus. Raising her head almost too fast, her neck muscles tightening at the speed she raised it, she stared wide-eyed at the Captain and the block.

               Another roar echoed through the sky, closer this time. The General, Ulfric, and the soldiers around her looked up to the sky. The brunette with the list looked evidently unsettled while the Captain seemed fixated on Zerrus. “There it is again. Did you hear that?”

               “I said, next prisoner!” The hatred aimed at her was not lost as the Captain’s voice rose in pitch and the glare she was receiving intensified.

               “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.”

               Hanging her head low for a moment, she took in a deep breath and approached the block slowly, eyeing the Captain, the General, and the headsman as she drew closer. She wasn’t going to allow the Captain any satisfaction by participating in her execution in any way, so she knelt down on her own and placed her head on the block, her gaze set on the axe and then shifting to look at the sky. It almost felt like time was crawling and moving too fast at the same time as a third roar booms around them, a black mass flying into her view at the same time the axe was raised.

               “H-HEY!” she yelped, hoping to get the headsman attention to what was coming in behind him.

               Apparently, the General was the one to catch on to her warning as he looked up just as the black mass drew closer. “What in Oblivion is that?” From what she could guess, it was a dragon. The dragon landed on the tower behind the headsman, causing the ground to shake and him to stumble. Flinching on the block, desperately trying to will her legs to move, Zerrus couldn’t help but stare into the eyes of the large reptile above them. The beast opened his maw and roared again, the clouds above them shifting from a clear sky to a darkness above them. Fiery meteors began raining down around them, the dragon opening his maw again, throwing Zerrus and the headsman off into different directions.

               In the short time she was airborne, she trusted her body’s instincts and curled into a tight ball. When she landed, she sprawled out almost immediately, her head reeling from the force of being thrown so violently. Tilting her head slightly, she spotted the body of the headsman, still and lifeless. All around her, she could hear shouting and battle cries as the Imperial soldiers began firing arrow after arrow at the creature. “Hey, you. Get up!” yelled Ralof at her, her feet scrambling immediately to stand up. “Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!”

               “I ain’t gonna stand here and argue with that!” Zerrus yelled back, bolting towards Ralof as he ran towards a nearby tower. Not a second after they entered the tower, Zerrus pushed her entire bodyweight into the wooden door, slamming it shut behind them as the chaos outside ensued. “If this is a dream, wake me up now.”

               “Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

               “Legends don’t burn down villages.” Ulfric responded blankly and matter-of-factly to Ralof’s question. Another roar sounded, the stones around them vibrating and her ears ringing. “We need to move. Now!”

               Ralof turned his attention to Zerrus, gesturing to her to follow him. “Up through the tower, let’s go!” Shuffling up the steps with Ralof as fast as she could, when she neared the top, she spotted a Stormcloak soldier trying to move some rocks. As she reached the top step, the dragon burst through the wall with his head, crushing the soldier with some of the rubble and burning his body with a gout of fire. Stumbling backwards from the burnt body and into Ralof, she felt a hand on her shoulder – a silent message of comfort for her obvious discomfort. Looking out the new hole in the wall, she could see the carnage the dragon had already wrought on the village; houses being burnt, towers toppled, and death around them. “See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!”

               “You want me to WHAT?” she stilled, looking at the distance between their position and the roof and to Ralof.

               “Go! We’ll follow when we can!”

               “I can’t make a jump like that! Not like this!” She raised her bound hands to show him that unlike him, she was still cuffed.

               “You can! Go!” Ralof gave her a harsh push, sending her flying out the tower and onto the hay covered roof of the inn. Coughing roughly and pulling herself to her feet with one of the broken wooden planks that used to be the foundation of the inn, she crawled through the opening as fast as she could. When she realized that the floorboards to the lower level were broken but a large gap in the floor fed its way down to the first floor, she wasted no time in diving down the hole, rolling upon landing to reduce the damage to her ankles and knees. When she looked up, she saw the brunette trying to usher a small child standing over what she could assume to be his father to his position.

               “Haming, you need to get over here. Now!” The boy hesitantly stepped away from the man, running towards her position and behind her. “Torolf! Gods… Everyone get back!” he yelled as the dragon landed behind the wounded man and belched out another torrent of flame. Turning to block the boy’s view of the man’s death, she used her body to shield his eyes from witnessing such a brutal demise. The boy clutched his arms around her as she gripped his shirt tightly and pulled him into her. “Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.”

               She shot a look over her shoulder. “And what about Haming? I won’t leave him here!”

               The soldier turned to look at the man behind him. “Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense.” Looking back at the boy, she nodded to him and pushed him gently towards Gunnar.

               “Gods guide you, Hadvar.” Gunnar spoke before Hadvar turned to face Zerrus as she locked eyes with him. A silent promise was shared with their eyes; ‘We’re getting out of this alive.’ Standing straight and rushing to close the distance between them, she gestured with her head for them to move. It seemed that no matter where she went, the dragon was just above her and continued to wreak havoc. After running through a burning house, she spotted General Tullius and a small defense of soldiers.

               “Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!” Tullius ordered, pointing them in the direction of the keep.

               “It’s you and me, prisoner. Stay close!” Hadvar advanced forward without hesitation, Zerrus not so much. She couldn’t believe what was happening around her. Just moments ago, she had woken up and was almost executed. Now hellfire was raining down upon them. Shaking her head to shake away those thoughts, she ran in the direction of the keep. Upon approaching the keep, Ralof ran across the courtyard, stopping at the sight of her and Hadvar. “Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!”

               “We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.” Ralof responded cockily.

               Just at that moment, the dragon flew above them, the air shaking around them. “Dammit, we don’t have time for this.” She growled, grabbing Hadvar’s arm with her bound hands and rushing at Ralof at a breakneck speed. When she closed the distance between her and Ralof with Hadvar still in tow, she shouldered him backwards until they reached a door leading into the keep. Busting the door open with Ralof’s body crashing into the floor, Zerrus panted as she quickly let go of Hadvar’s arm and shouldered the double doors closed.

               “Why did you do that?” Ralof snarled, standing up and narrowing his eyes at Zerrus and Hadvar. “Why did you save him?”

               “Will you shut the hell up and think for a few minutes!” Zerrus yelled, turning around and glaring darkly at Ralof. “Who gives a rat’s ass about your beliefs in whatever fight is going on between you two? We got bigger things to worry about. One of which just burned down this village and is still outside and killing Imperials and Stormcloaks alike!”

               Ralof and Hadvar stilled, looking at Zerrus with an expression of shock.

               “I see that got to you.” She continued, stepping away from the door and searching around for something to cut loose her bindings. “Unlike you guys, I don’t give a shit about this conflict. Right now, we need to work together to get out of here without turning into a pot roast.”

               While she searched, Hadvar stepped up to her and tapped her shoulder. “Here. Let me get those bindings off.” Turning to face him with her arms presented to him, he wasted no time in wedging a knife between the leather of the cuffs and slicing through it, freeing her hands. “You’re right. We’re all in this together. If that really was a dragon, we’re going to need every capable soldier to kill it.”

               “Don’t get your hopes up, Hadvar. I don’t know a lick about fighting. I don’t even know where the hell I am, how I got here, or who I am.”

               “Amnesia?” Ralof supplied as a possibility.

               “I don’t know. The only thing I do know is my name.” She felt around her head for any injuries that could have been a result of her lack of memory, only finding ratted hair and some mild cuts on her forehead and cheeks from her escape. “Doesn’t seem like it. No bumps or contusions. Just scrapes.”

               “We’ll figure that out later. We need to get out of Helgen.” Hadvar spoke, both Ralof and Zerrus nodding in agreement. “There should be some armor in one of these chests. I’d rather you be protected in some manner should we come across any complications.”

               “I… doubt armor will stop that giant fire-breathing lizard out there, but it will be better than walking around in… this.” She gestured to the rags she was wearing when she woke up. Rummaging through the chests in the room, she found a set of armor like that of the armor Hadvar was wearing, only without the chainmail. Pulling it out of the chest, she held it up and in the light to get a better look at it. From what she could see, the armor was intact with no tears. Almost brand new.

               She stilled. She had no idea how to put on armor. Turning to look at Hadvar and Ralof over her shoulder, she stuttered and tripped on her words. “You don’t know how to put armor on, do you?” Ralof asked, Zerrus shaking her head swiftly. “I’ll help. If you will permit me.”

               “Do what you need to in order to get this thing on. I would rather be momentarily embarrassed than dead.”

               After several minutes of strapping the skirted armor on her, Zerrus tested her movement and grinned. While she was partially mortified by the fact she had to ask someone to put it on her, she knew that the risk of mortal injuries would now be decreased. She felt strange not having pants on with this armor, but she could only assume that Hadvar felt even more uncomfortable than her. Standing straight and looking at the weapon rack near the gated door, she narrowed down on an iron sword. Grabbing the blade, she tested its weight in her hand and almost felt an instinct trigger within her.

               Twirling the blade effortlessly in one hand, she sheathed the sword. Freezing in place, she stared at nothing in particular. “How did I do that?” she asked herself aloud.

               “I was just about to ask the same question. I thought you said you didn’t know how to fight?” Hadvar inquired.

               “I… I don’t? It’s like my body just knew what to do.” Zerrus replied, pulling the chain and raising the gate that blocked their way forward. “Whatever… Let’s just get out of here.”

               Making their way down the hallway, they reached another gate, voices could be heard on the other side. “Stormcloaks. Let me handle this. You stay back.” Ralof pointed at Hadvar. Accepting that it was probably a bad idea to go out there with enemy soldiers in the keep, he stood against the wall. Zerrus followed nervously behind, unsure of how this would transpire. Upon seeing Zerrus, the two Stormcloak soldiers stood up and unsheathed their weapons.

               “Uh oh.” She mumbled as it just occurred to her that the armor she was wearing would cause them to assume her identity. “Wait! I’m not-!” Before she could explain herself, one of the soldiers, the woman she heard shout earlier, had charged at her with a sword drawn. Stepping off to the side before the blade could cut her, she staggered backwards as fast as she could. Ralof stood stunned at his comrade’s reaction to seeing her in Imperial armor.

               “For the love of all that is holy, stop and listen to me! PLEASE!” Zerrus scrambled desperately, dodging each swipe from the swordswoman’s blade.

               “I won’t hear the words of an Imperial dog!”

               “I’m not an Imperial! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS!”

               “Nice try.” The soldier charged her again, Zerrus growling loudly and unsheathing her sword at the same time the swordswoman slashed at her, their blades dancing off each other. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at the woman, she deftly parried the sword from her hand and kicked the blade to the other end of the room. The second soldier charged at her, greatsword raised above his head. Sidestepping from his downward swing, she kicked him square in the chest then tackled him to the ground. Spitting at her in rage, she twisted one of his wrists until he let go of the sword.

               The female soldier had picked her blade back up, rushing at Zerrus once more until she casually raised her blade up at the woman. “I am not here to fight. I’m here to live. Either you drop your weapons, or I will have no choice.” Zerrus threatened, her voice dangerously low to accentuate her warning.

               “Tough talk for almost executing-.“

               “SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. I had nothing to do with the executions! I was NEXT!” Zerrus tore off her helmet, revealing her face for them to see. “I was on the same carts as you. Don’t go accusing me of something I had no hand in!”

               “Ralof…” one of the soldiers called out quietly.

               “She’s right. She isn’t one of them. We just found this armor for her to wear.” Ralof lied, turning to look in the direction of where they came from. “We need to get out of Helgen. Now.”

               Stepping back from the soldier she had pinned down, Zerrus sheathed her sword and pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure where she learned how to use a sword, but it apparently had implanted into her instincts and kept her alive somehow. She took no pleasure in fighting. She almost felt like throwing up just by threatening them. “Blaze the trail. Cover the path. We’ll follow shortly.” She ordered the Stormcloaks, not wanting to see them or deal with them any further. The second they were out of her sight and she could no longer hear their footsteps on the stone floor, she sighed. “Thanks for the help there, Ralof.”

               “I wasn’t about to have my brethren murder an innocent.” Hadvar stepped into view, his posture slightly rigid. “Let’s go.”


	2. Awakening of Talent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions broil in her mind as she is faced with an internal crisis of character.

               “We… we made it?” she asked incredulously as she exited the cave with Hadvar and Ralof trailing just behind her. A sound she would hope to never hear again, stole her attention, her body flinging itself into a nearby bush and looking up to the sky. Overhead flew the dragon, finished with its reign of death upon Helgen and moving somewhere else. “Well, it looks like he’s gone but I ain’t gonna stay here and see if he comes back.” She turned to look at the two men giving each other a side-eyed look. “I understand you guys are fighting a war and all, but I hope you keep my words to heart.”

               “I doubt it will come easy, but we will try.” Hadvar responded, moving ahead of Ralof and keeping his back turned to him. “I will turn a blind eye to this, Ralof.” The sound of ruffling leaves was the only thing that was heard for several moments. While Hadvar had his back turned to Ralof, Ralof walked somewhere to the north and away from them. “We will keep your words in our hearts, but in this time of war we cannot be too careful. There is more to this fight than you know.”

               “I figured that. There usually is. As much as I’d love to stay and chat Hadvar, we need to get out of the open. Maybe find a town to recover properly.” She looked around for a moment before noticing a footpath not too far from where she had hidden.

               “The closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle is the blacksmith there. I’m sure he’d help you out.” He stepped forward and ahead of Zerrus, Zerrus trundling after him slightly. “I knew you wouldn’t leave my side. What you said when we outfitted you… you really don’t know anything about who you are?”

               “Afraid so. I actually have a question for you.” She caught up to his pace, walking evenly with him and looking up at him slightly. “You said something about me being a… what was it? Dark Elf? But you asked me if there was some kind of man in me. What did you mean by that?” Hadvar’s head whipped over to look down at her.

               “You really don’t know?”

               “Know what?”

               Spotting a nearby pond, Hadvar ushered her over. “Take a look.” Kneeling down and looking into the water, Zerrus saw a reflection; hers, but she didn’t recognize her own face. In the pond was a pale-skinned woman with puffy cheeks, large eyes with irises the size of walnuts, a small nose and thin lips. Her ears were pointed and jutted outwards. But what caught her attention aside from her eyes was the short cerulean hair that flared in the back, fringes dangling down to her collarbone. Looking up at him, she grimaced. “You have the eyes and ears of a Dunmer, yet your skin is as pale as a human’s. I am uncertain whether it is Imperial or Nord blood in you.”

               “And the blue hair?”

               “I don’t know. I had assumed you had used some form of magic to change its color, but based on what I have seen of you, I doubt that is the case.” Standing up and continuing down the path with Hadvar, she listened on. “Based on what I had seen, you have some form of slumbering combat prowess that exceeds even my own. The way you dispatched of those frostbite spiders and even that bear was a testament to that. Had you any form of slumbering magic similar to your swordsmanship, it would have presented itself in much the same manner.”

               “Perhaps I need more time to learn more of myself. Or I need to be in a situation where it could emerge.” Zerrus supplied. Looking forward, she spotted 3 stones, etched and detailed strangely to her. “What are those?”

               “These are the Guardian Stones. 3 of the ancient standing stones. There are 13 that dot Skyrim’s landscape. These are the Thief, Mage, and Warrior Stones.” Hadvar explained. Zerrus took a hesitant step forward, unsure of whether she should approach the stones. “Go on.” Upon stepping between the Guardian Stones, all 3 of the pillars began to glimmer and sparkle, a pillar of light shining into the sky from the tip of each one. “I’ve never seen that before.” Turning to look back at Hadvar, a mixed look of confusion, awe, and shock was etched onto his features.

               “What? Did something happen?”

               “The stones have never shone all at once before.”

               “Is… that bad?” Silence hung in the air around them. “I’m guessing you don’t know.”

               “I am no mage or scholar. I have no idea what this could mean. However, your theory was correct it appears. The Mage Stone shone which indicates that there is some form of magic potential in you.” Stepping back up to his side, Zerrus continued to listen aptly to him. “All that remains is to unlock that potential. Who knows? It may restore your memories.”

               Continuing down the cobblestone path, Zerrus and Hadvar eventually reached a small town, chickens wandering free and the people outside none the wiser about what had just happened in Helgen. “It looks nobody has noticed.” Zerrus muttered, watching over her shoulder as she passed by an elderly woman sweeping her doorstep.

               “It’s for the best for now. Come. There’s my uncle.” Hadvar pointed to the blacksmith sharpening a blade on a grindstone. Stepping closer to the smithy, Hadvar greeted his uncle. “Uncle Alvor! Hello!”

               “Hadvar? What are you doing here?” inquired Alvor as he put away the blade he was sharpening and stepped towards them. “Are you on leave from-?” He stilled upon stepping closer to them and seeing the burns, cuts, scrapes and bruises that littered their bodies. “Shor’s bones! What happened to you, boy? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

               “Shh… Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I’m fine. But we should go inside to talk.” The frantic tone in Hadvar’s voice didn’t go unnoticed to Zerrus. Given his position as a soldier, causing a panic by mentioning a dragon would not end well for anybody.

               “What’s going on? And who’s this?” Alvor regarded Zerrus, sizing her up with a questionable stare.

               “She’s a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I’ll explain everything, but we need to go inside.”

               Zerrus shifted uneasily as Alvor considered the frantic request to speak inside, seeing the cogs turn in his head until he agreed. “Very well. Come on inside. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell us what happened.” He stepped to the side, allowing them to cross up the steps and towards the house when Zerrus’s ears picked up an elderly woman’s voice.

               “A dragon! I saw a dragon!”

               _‘Uh oh.’_

               “What? What is it now, mother?” responded her son as Zerrus glanced over her shoulder to eavesdrop on whatever the woman had seen and if her outburst would cause a panic.

               “It was as big as the mountain and black as night! It flew right over the barrow!”

               _‘So, she DID see it.’_

               “Dragons now, is it? Please mother, if you keep going on like this everyone in town will think you are crazy.” Sighed the son as he began walking away from his mother with a look of shame and irritation written in his eyes.

               “You’ll see! It WAS a dragon! It’ll kill us all and then you’ll believe me!”

               Turning her attention back to Alvor and Hadvar as they neared the door to the house, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that she should warn someone of the danger. Upon entering the house, she felt a comforting warmth pepper her skin as opposed to the burning and prickling one she felt earlier. “Sigrid! We have company!” Alvor called down to someone. A woman slowly ascended the steps, her eyes almost sparkling at the sight of Hadvar before shifting to one of concern.

               “Hadvar! We’ve been so worried about you! Come, you two must be hungry. Sit down and I’ll get you something to eat.” Sigrid went about moving around the cabin, picking up different vegetables and herbs before moving to the pot situation over the fireplace. Taking her invitation, Zerrus sat down at a chair situated near the pantry, removing her helmet and placing it on floor just under her chair, then placing her hands on her lap. The helmet wasn’t exactly fitted for her ears, which was evident in that her ears were hypersensitive to the feeling of the air around them. Looking up at Alvor, she swallowed thickly.

               “Now, what’s the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?”

               “A cave bear would have probably been—what am I saying… it WAS heaven compared to what really tore us up like this.” Zerrus answered, shaking her head as the images of the fires that consumed Helgen flooded her vision for a moment.

               “You know I was assigned to General Tullius’s guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked… by a dragon.” Hadvar continued. The look on Alvor’s face signified he didn’t quite believe them.

               “A dragon? That’s… ridiculous. You aren’t drunk, are you boy?”

               “With all due respect, if we were drunk, we wouldn’t be burnt like someone held a torch to us.” She narrowed her eyes slightly at Alvor, gesturing to her body that was littered in soot, burns, and scrapes from her escape while still being bound. “There really isn’t much I can say about the whole mess… One minute I’m staring death in the face, the next I’m staring at something WORSE than death.”

               “It was that bad?”

               “Worse than any nightmare I’ve ever had. And I’m starting to believe that this has become my reality.”

               The confused look on his face must’ve been obvious, Hadvar spoke shortly after her. “She has no recollection of who she is. She doesn’t know where she came from, where she is, or how she got here. Her last memory was going to bed, then she woke up in Helgen.” He looked over to her, she nodded as a sign of gratitude for explaining what she couldn’t. “I thought you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay.”

               Alvor immediately gave a warm smile to Zerrus. “Of course. Any friend of Hadvar’s is a friend of mine. I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”

               “Is… is there any way I can help?” she asked almost nervously.

               “There is something. The Jarl needs to be warned if there is a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless. If you would do that, I will be in your debt.”

               “I don’t need to be asked to warn of this danger. I don’t want to witness what I did again. But maybe I should rest for at least a day.”

               “I understand. You two must be in some form of discomfort given the extent of your injuries. I’ll ask Sigrid to stop by the Riverwood Trader to pick up some medicine for you two. I must get back to work. You two make yourselves at home.” Alvor stood up from the table, slowly exiting the house and heading back to smithing.

               “Nice to be back in a friendly spot, huh?” Hadvar asked with a slight smirk.

               “I suppose. I’m still unsure about everything. Are there any books I could read? Something to help me get my bearings?”

               “I suppose that I can’t blame you. It must be hard waking up in a place you don’t understand.”

               “Can you tell me more about this war that’s going on between you and Ralof? I overheard Lokir saying something about how Ulfric Stormcloak is the leader of a rebellion? Even the General said something about him starting a war and murdering the king?” She shook her head. “I know I’m asking a lot of questions… I just don’t know anything at all.”

               “I understand. You heard correctly. Ulfric is a traitor, he killed the High King of Skyrim – some say he Shouted him apart. By murdering the High King, he incited a rebellion amongst the people of Skyrim.”

               “What was the rebellion about? I know it can’t be as simple as him killing the High King. Normally, people would have no qualms about executions for such an action.”

               “Correct. This all started decades ago, when the Aldmeri Dominion launched an attack on Cyrodiil.” She cocked her head to the side slightly, her brows furrowed. “Cyrodiil is the seat of the Empire. The Aldmeri Dominion wanted us to officially remove Talos as one of the Divines.”

               “Divines? Wait… Lokir said something about the Divines. He said a few names. What were they…?” She tapped her finger to her bottom lip as she thought back on his words in the cart when they entered the gates of Helgen. “Ah. Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, and Akatosh. That priestess also said something about there being Eight Divines?”

               “There are now, which is why we are at war.” Hadvar scratched at the top of his head, heaving a sigh. “During the Great War with the Aldmeri Dominion, the Emperor conceded and removed Talos from worship, as per their request. The High Elves believed that he was a man and as such is not a god and never will be. That the worship of Talos is blasphemous and an insult.”

               “But… what does it matter what someone believes or worships in?” Zerrus spoke without hesitation, biting her tongue to keep from yelling. “This war… it has something to do with Talos… doesn’t it?”

               “Yes. Ulfric believes that the Empire were cowards and gave up too easily when it came to abolishing Talos worship. Many Nords here in Skyrim hold Talos close to their hearts.”

               “And you?”

               “What about me?”

               “You’re a Nord… aren’t you?”

               “Yes.”

               “Do you still hold Talos in your heart?” Hadvar hesitated in answering her question. “Look. Everyone believes and worships in what they do. Even though you serve under the Empire, it doesn’t mean you can’t hold your own beliefs. There’s a difference between believing and worshipping, Hadvar.” She stood up from the chair, stepping close to the fireplace and looking at the wounds that snaked up her arms. “You can believe in peace… but do you worship it?”

               “That philosophy… it almost sounds like that of the Stormcloaks.”

               “But it isn’t. Is it?” Zerrus turned to face him, her eyes narrowed, and voice clipped. “From what I saw and heard back there, the Stormcloaks strongly believe in Talos. So much to the point that they are willing to die for it. What I’m trying to say is that you can’t be held accountable for simply BELIEVING.”

               “If the Stormcloaks thought more like you, we wouldn’t be locked in this endless bloodshed.”

               “Well, it’s obvious that we can’t count on the ‘what-if’ factors anymore. They believe what they do. You saw what happened when they got one look at me. The animosity towards me.”

               “Perhaps once you recover your memories, you could join this fight. Put an end to it.”

               “The question begs; which side?” She sat back down at the table, resting her cheek in her hand. “I know nothing of either side besides what has been told to me. I’d rather know both sides of the story before choosing. Besides…” She pointed back in the direction of Helgen with her thumb. “I’m still a bit miffed about what happened back there. General Tullius ordered my execution. It’s going to take some time before I forgive that. And let’s not forget the hostile looks the Stormcloaks gave me when I was standing in line. I don’t know what the hell that was about, but I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

               “Of course. I completely understand. You don’t simply go from being executed one day to joining up the next. Take your time.”

               “Thanks for understanding and for answering some of my questions.” Sigrid placed two bowls of what appeared to be a soup or a stew in front of them before stepping out of the house for a moment. “I just want to know what the hell happened before I woke up. That’s something you can’t answer.” Standing up from the wooden chair, she stretched until her back popped. “I’m going to head outside for a bit. Look around and try to get my bearings. Who knows, maybe I’ll recognize something?”

               Stepping just outside of the small town and across the bridge, she heard a strange and loud noise, the earth rumbling slightly under her feet. Her blood almost burned, her body running on its own towards the noise until she saw a farm. When she squinted to see what she heard, she spotted 3 warriors fighting some sort of giant. Taking a sharp inhale of breath, she soon found herself sliding down the hillside and rushing towards the giant. Before her mind caught up with what she was doing, she was now latched onto the giant’s back somehow and clinging desperately to his neck. “Oh, sweet lord, what am I doing…?” she muttered to herself as the giant began thrashing violently.

               Grabbing the sword strapped to her hip, she moved to do some physical damage instead of clinging to the creature like a koala cub. Just as she was about to stab into the giant’s neck with her sword, a large hand wrapped around her and threw her violently to the ground, her body bouncing off the dirt and the wind being knocked out of her lungs. Taking a shaky inhale and scrabbling to back away, she saw the giant raise a club made from some sort of bone. Rolling forward and between his legs, she hopped to her feet and staggered as a sharp pain laced up her side. Looking over her shoulder and growling darkly, she drove the dull blade of the borrowed sword into his Achille’s heel, the giant roaring loudly in pain and tumbling forward, but not before kicking her with his other foot.

               “DAH!” she squeaked as she tumbled backwards. When she attempted to sit up, the giant was still on the ground, the sword in his heel smoking for some reason, arrows peppered and pierced through his torso. Moving to pull herself to her feet, she gasped sharply in pain. “How do I end up in these messes…?”

               The sound of 3 sets of footsteps approaching her made her feel safe, the warriors she had seen tangoing with the giant standing over her. A woman with bold red hair and a bow strapped to her back knelt near her head. “You handled yourself well. Nice touch with imbuing your blade with fire.”

               “I did what?” Zerrus cocked a brow, again moving to sit up before the pain in her ribs forced her to lie still. “I’m… just going to lay here for a bit.”

               “Ribs?” spoke another woman wearing a set of leathered armor with speckles of iron dotting the skirt, a hide shield on her back.

               “Yeah. Think I bruised the bone or something when that thing threw me.” Zerrus groaned through her teeth when a breath caused a fiery pain to lance up her left side. “Or maybe a broken rib. Can’t move.”

               “Farkas, carry her back to Whiterun. She needs a healer.” The archer spoke to the steel-clad man.

               “Right.” Farkas stooped down to scoop her up when she squealed as he picked her off the ground. “Sorry.”

               “Not your fault I’m a dumbass who thought turning myself into a backpack was a good idea.” Zerrus sighed, her brows furrowed as the reality of her dumb actions had subsided long enough for her to reflect.

               “It was a good tactic. What made you decide to help us take down a Giant?” the archer asked.

               “Not sure. Just felt it was the right thing to do.”

               “Despite your injuries, you could make for a decent Shield-Sister.”

               “Shield…Sister?”

               “New to Skyrim? Never heard of the Companions?” Zerrus shook her head slightly, refraining from moving too much as they slowly approached a slope leading into a city. “We’re a collection of warriors in honor. We show up to solve problems, if the coin is good enough.”

               “I’d help regardless of the coin. Then again, I don’t know how well I’d do given that I landed flat on my ass.”

               “We all do from time to time. No shame in that.” Farkas spoke, his voice rumbling her slightly from how close in proximity she was to him since he was carrying her.

               “Not that I’m ashamed. Just realizing how dumb it was to go after something 5 times my size without a battle plan.” She frowned slightly. “Not… sure how I set my sword on fire either. Just sorta happened.”

               “Well, it worked.”

Two guards stood at a large gate before them, nodding to the Companions and opening the doors for them at the sight of Zerrus in Farkas’s arms. Looks were passed on them as they hurried further into the city until they came upon what looked like a temple. “Another one? Kynareth preserve us…” spoke a priestess as she opened the door to the temple and ushered Farkas to a stone slab. “Set her down. I’ll see to her injuries.”

               Setting her gently down, Farkas nodded to the priestess and left. The stare the priestess was giving Zerrus didn’t go unnoticed. “What? Is there something on my face?”

               “Some burns. And your eyes… you’re part Dunmer, aren’t you?” A warm and calming light shone around her hands, the priestess carefully placing her hands on her torso. The feeling of her skin slowly mending itself back together from the burns having blistered her skin felt odd to Zerrus, but what she could really feel were the bones in her chest being put back into place, which was painful but not nearly as much as when she got them in the first place.

               “That’s what I’ve been told. My name is Zerrus.”

               “Danica. Can you tell me how you got these injuries?”

               “Where to begin…? The burns are from a dragon attack in Helgen. The busted ribs are from a Giant.” Danica placed her hand on Zerrus’s forehead, a look of concern and partial fear written on the healer’s face. “I don’t have any head injuries. A dragon attacked Helgen.” Her eyes widened in realization for a second. “Crap! I’m supposed to warn the Jarl about that!” Danica placed her hand down on Zerrus’s chest, gently keeping her still on the stone slab.

               “I’ll deliver your message to the Jarl. You need to rest.”

               “But-!” A strange calming sensation swept into the corners of her mind, her eyes slowly starting to close as if the events of the day crashed into her all at once and her adrenaline was sucked out of her.

               “Rest.”

               _‘Maybe she’s right… I did tell Alvor I should rest for a day before warning the Jarl.’_

Zerrus’s eyes finally slipped closed, but her mind was just slightly behind on the order.

_‘This has been one hell of a weird day… waking up to find myself under arrest and about to be executed… only to survive by a rampaging dragon attack? And this war between the Stormcloaks and the Empire… what’s the point of fighting each other when there’s now a bigger threat? And what Hadvar said… about me having an unlocked potential. I can’t deny the proof that’s in front of me. I somehow went from a quiet girl with no skillset to being some sort of sword master? And what happened with the Giant… Hadvar may have been right about me needing to be forced into a position that awoke the hidden abilities within me. Everybody knows that the Achille’s tendon is vital, but the fact I somehow turned that dull iron sword into a cauterizing instrument?’_

_‘I’m just fortunate that my dumb ass had help. If it weren’t for Farkas and the other Companions, I’d be lying in that field. But what keeps driving me into these situations? How do I know these skills?’_

_‘Who… am I?’_


End file.
